Sharing the World with the Fall-Apart Girl
by Predominantly Normal
Summary: Lapis has almost nothing going for her, save for a dream to live in the big city, and both legs. Peridot has the near opposite problem. Together, they try to find equilibrium. But here's the catch: they've got a time limit. [Human AU Lapidot]
1. Minor Inconveniences

**OH BOY LOOK WHO'S BACK AFTER A 3 MONTH HIATUS.**

 **Nonetheless: time doesn't seem to wear away my kick for cliche romance, so here I am. I actually like the "Doomed from the Beginning" trope a lot, so I hope to do it a justice. I've actually been trying to write this story for a solid year (even while I was in the midst of writing The Talking Head Game) through different variations, but this is the first one I've been able to commit myself to. It's gonna be a wild ride, kids.**

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SWEARING, MENTAL ILLNESS, AMPUTATION.

* * *

Minor Inconveniences

Let me tell you a story you've heard a thousand times before.

Let me tell you all about how I'm a troubled fuck-up, and about how my mom's depressed, and about how my dad wised up to all these little red flags before any of us and hightailed his ass into the arms of a nicer, more conventional family when I was just fourteen.

Let me tell you about how I'm working double-shifts under the table at a local family owned restaurant because my mom had a fucking mental breakdown in the middle of her office, and now she's dependant on disability checks that pay less than minimum wage.

Let me tell you about how it wasn't always this way. Because I used to be one of those kids in the gifted classes, and travel teams, and drama clubs. Because my dad used to take me to the ocean to teach me how to swim. Because my mom used to go out every weekend to buy new rugs for the floors and new paintings for the walls. Because I used to have dreams, and aspirations, and talents, and all those other stupid things that eventually became sadder to hold on to than to let go.

But that's enough about me. Let me tell you about her. Let me tell you about how she had blonde hair that looked like washed up sunlight, and let me tell you about how her eyes were a brilliant shade of sea-foam green.

Let me tell you about how she never really fixed me, but rather made me want to fix myself.

Let me tell you about how I met the dying girl on a bleak Tuesday morning while I was drinking a stale cup of coffee and driving my car to school in the pouring rain.

I hated my car like any ungrateful teenager might. It was an old mossy green SUV with no air conditioning, manual locking systems, and gas mileage that would give any environmentalist an ulcer.

My dad bought it for me the day I got my license and promised to pay the insurance until I graduated so long as I didn't get into any trouble with the local highway patrol.

I guess the car was some kind of sick attempt at an apology for abandoning my mom and me for his new family in the richer neighborhood up north.

Him, probably: _"Gee, I'm real sorry you guys are living in a literal cigar box, but I'm sure giving you this neat '99 gas-guzzler will absolve me of all guilt and responsibility!"_

Ha. As if.

Anyways, I usually walked to school- partly to save on gas and partly to spite my dad- but on this particular day it was raining harder than it had in months, and I already suffered enough at school without being drenched on top of everything else.

My car dredged through at a steady pace of ten-and-a-half miles per hour, and though my wiper blades were at their highest setting and my headlights were on full-tilt, I could hardly see the road right in front of me.

There didn't seem to be another car on earth as I drove down the flooded streets. My only company was the six A.M. darkness, and the gentle buzz of a morning talk show on my radio.

I checked the digital clock display on my dashboard and cursed.

My foot twitched on the gas reluctantly, as if it had a particular itch to it, and my car jerked to life. My mind began to twist excuses for my late arrival over in my head, and suddenly, I was careening down the road at an impressive ten miles over the posted speed limit. Huge wakes of rainwater flew from my tires like outstretched wings, soaring through the air before crashing to the ground like mini-typhoons.

Unfortunately, I didn't see her until _after_ I'd already smashed her in the face with a metric fuckton of rainwater.

It was the intrusive glare of a reflective yellow raincoat that caught my eye as I drove past and summoned a monstrous wave upon her tiny form. I winced as I realized what I'd done, but I couldn't stop. At the speeds I going, slamming on the breaks would only send my car reeling out of control.

That- and I simply didn't care.

In fact, I actually found the entire thing kind of funny in a pathetic, mean-spirited sort of way.

I drove on to school, not easing my foot from the gas until I was already in the parking lot. I cruised past the front lot, and inched around to the back where they kept the dumpsters and utility doors.

I eased into my spot and put my car in park. Technically, the spot didn't really belong to me. I hadn't reserved it or anything. But the space nearest the south entrance was practically mine by default since I was the only person willing to Parallel Park every morning into the crawlspace.

To be frank, I was probably the only kid who even _wanted_ to go through all the extra effort just to be ten feet closer to the doors.

I guess it just felt nice to have something to myself. Like, even if I lost everything, I could still know that something on this miserable Earth was still _mine-_ no matter how petty and virtually useless that thing might be.

I braced myself before grabbing my bag and hopping out of my car. I sprinted to the utility doors and yanked at them, only to find them bolted shut. I cursed and ripped at them again to no avail.

Fuck. I forgot. They locked the utility doors after the tardy bell.

Finding it useless to bang at the metal doors and bruise my knuckles any further, I turned and ran around the building until I came to the front entrance. Rain pounded down on me as I stumbled on the wet concrete, my eyes squinted and my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I burst through the open door, feeling as if I had just emerged from a cold, dirty shower.

My clothes clung tightly to my body, and I shivered immediately as a wall of the school's air conditioning slammed into me.

My mind immediately went to the poor girl I drenched only ten minutes earlier.

I would say that my soaked and suffering ass was a result of Karma, but that would imply that I believed in such a universal mechanism when, in fact, I didn't. See, I couldn't bring myself to believe in Karma because I couldn't fathom what horrible thing I'd possibly done to deserve the absolute mess that was my life.

I trudged up the stairs towards my first period class. Late as I was, nobody was really in the halls save for the underpaid vice principal, Ms. Amarillo. In all honesty, she wasn't so much of a vice principal as she was a glorified hall monitor.

I paid her no mind as I walked past, wringing out my clothes as I went.

"Miss Lazuli, might I ask where you're supposed to be?" Ms. Amarillo cleared her throat obnoxiously. She had this ugly shit-eating grin on her face, like she was one tardy slip away from having the pleasure of expelling me. I mean, I guess she practically was, but at the same time I would've appreciated a little faith from the educational staff.

"First period? I'm going back there right now. I went to the bathroom and forgot my pass, sorry," I shrugged, hardly looking up to meet her eyes.

"You look awfully wet," Ms. Amarillo frowned. I felt a barbed wire squeeze around my heart, and produced possibly the flimsiest lie ever concocted by a sentient being.

"Crazy toilet water accident, ma'am. I think all this rain's backing up the pipes. Now I _really_ have to get to first period."

Ms. Amarillo definitely wasn't buying it. I didn't blame her.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I accompany you there, then?" Ms. Amarillo said, her sickly sweet voice betraying her incredulity.

"Sure."

Ms. Amarillo smiled as if she were a cat watching her mouse inch towards the mousetrap. She attached herself to me like some horrible parasite, and we walked side-by-side to my first period. My soaked jeans already started to chafe my thighs, and my body was wracked with shivers.

I forced myself not to wince.

My first period was health- a class so uncared for by the staff and students that it was unceremoniously dumped into the old PE teacher's office. It was now crammed into fifty-by-fifty cement block we called the All-In Room. It had no stable ventilation, and it had the faint air of sweat perpetually sponged into the walls as the main gym was a mere ten feet from the entrance.

I offered my classmates a tired smile as I shuffled in.

"I'm back from the bathroom. Sorry I forgot the pass," I announced. Ms. Amarillo's shiny stiletto pumps clipped the backs of my tennis shoes as I dragged my feet across the room to my seat.

The health teacher, a stout, floral-smelling woman by the name of Mrs. Wilt, stared at me in confusion for a moment before her gaze found Ms. Amarillo. Suddenly, her eyes lit up like a Rockefeller Christmas tree.

"It's not a problem at all, Lapis!" she chirped.

I had two things going for me in that moment: the fact that Mrs. Wilt loved me like a niece and the fact that she hated Ms. Amarillo like an in-law.

Ms. Amarillo looked unimpressed. "She was here for attendance?" she questioned, her brow raised in bored disbelief.

"Unless I'm going batty at thirty, I believe she was. Is there something else you needed, Patti?"

Ms. Amarillo glared daggers into me before shaking her head stiffly. "Not at all. My sincerest apologies for interrupting. Carry on."

I sighed, slumping down in my seat. I sat right next to Mrs. Wilt's desk, which meant that I wasn't ever able to sneak texts or play games on my phone under the table, but it didn't really matter because I had very little desire to. Health fascinated me, and Mrs. Wilt ensured that I was always too busy in class to bother with distractions anyways.

She distributed some papers about the human reproductive system for the class to read over and as she handed out mine, she stopped and met my eyes.

"Lapis, why on Earth were you late this time?" She asked, exasperated. "And Lord Almighty, why do you look like you took a shower with your clothes on?"

"It's a torrential downpour out there," I explained. "I had to drive like, ten miles an hour because I couldn't see."

"Oh, thank goodness," Mrs. Wilt sighed. She looked me over. "You're soaked, dear. Would you like to change in my office?"

"Yes, please," I said, relief flooding my frozen veins.

"Alright. And here, take the pass this time."

She winked at me, and I laughed. And then I felt a twist in my gut, and I stopped laughing. I took the pass, thanked her, and walked out the door like a windup toy some child had twisted far too tightly.

Mrs. Wilt's office was connected to the girl's locker room, meaning I didn't have to walk far to get my change of clothes. I had two outfits, actually. I had my regular gym clothes that consisted of the world's ugliest shirt (a brown crewneck with a bright pink "I HEART EMPIRE CITY" logo) with a pair of shorts that still fit from middle school, and then I had my unused cross-country uniform I got freshman year.

I opted for my cross-country uniform if only because it had long pants, and I was especially freezing at the moment. I pulled on the unwrinkled black sweatpants and teal shirt, examining myself in Mrs. Wilt's mirror.

I'd been so excited to join cross-country that I'd bought all my equipment early, and I'd picked up a summer newspaper route so I had a chance to work on my running. Now, wearing the team's bright colors felt like a cruel joke.

Sighing, I tied the drawstring of my sweatpants and returned to class.

And that's when I saw it. A neon yellow raincoat standing in the middle of the classroom.

The girl wearing it was so small that she was practically swallowed whole by her clothing. I clenched my fists and hoped to god that she didn't see my face when I ripped past her in the dry safety of my car.

I took my seat, and printed my name at the top of my worksheet, eyes never wandering from the bold black text.

"Lapis," Mrs. Wilt hummed. I looked up, but said nothing. "Could you be a dear and lend Peridot some spare clothing? She walked in the rain all the way here, and I hate to see her drenched like this."

Believe me, if it were anyone else asking me to give my clothing to an absolute stranger, I would've declined in an instant. I would've lied. I would've made up any bullshit excuse possible to avoid having to be anywhere nearby that unfortunate girl.

But it wasn't anyone else. It was Mrs. Wilt. And she was looking at me with huge, hopeful eyes, and I already felt bad for ruining this girl's day, and I had no choice but to relent.

"Fine. Alright. Okay," I triple-confirmed, because that's what I do when I don't want to do something I'm going to do anyways.

"Wonderful! For being such a generous friend, I'll exempt you from this worksheet, alright?" Mrs. Wilt winked at me.

"Alright," I said, smiling back.

I looked up at Peridot and frowned. It was my first time seeing her up close, and I studied her face for a moment. She had big blue eyes, angular cheeks, and round dorky glasses that perched upon the bridge of her sharp upturned nose like some domesticated bird. I tried to imagine these features twisted into a horrible expression of shock and rage like the one she might've worn when I hit her with a fat sheet of rainwater.

I stood up, threw my bag around my shoulders, and started walking out of the room. I didn't check back to make sure Peridot was following behind, because frankly, I didn't care.

Eventually, I heard her as she began to clamber down the stairs leading down to the locker rooms. She was taking a disproportionately long time to ease down the flight of ten or so steps. I stopped by the door of the girl's room to observe her.

"Do you need help or something?" I asked, tapping my fingers against my thighs.

"No!" Peridot snapped as if I'd said some horrible slur. Her voice was high pitched and scratchy, and I instantly decided that I didn't like it.

"God," I muttered, watching her take on another set of stairs. This time, she moved slightly faster, her entire body teetering with effort as she pushed herself to clear the stairs in a decent amount of time.

She grumbled under her breath as she stumbled down the last few steps and waited for me with an expectant air to her expression. Rolling my eyes, I yanked open the heavy wooden door and held it for her. She hobbled in, with me following close behind.

I lead her to my locker, which was full-sized despite the fact that full-sized lockers were usually reserved for the sports teams. I unlocked it and found my gym clothes balled up on the metal floor. I plucked them up and tossed them to Peridot, who inspected them with nothing short of growing disgust and horror.

"Shorts?" Peridot yelped, her voice cracking.

"They're gym clothes," I said matter-of-factly. "Why, is there a problem with them?"

"N-no, it's just-," Peridot stared at the clothes. "I can't wear these. Take them back." She tossed me the shorts and twisted the fabric of my t-shirt between her bony fingers.

"Your jeans are soaked," I frowned, staring at her baggy, three-sizes-too-big bootcuts. They flooded around her ankles and consumed the upper half of her shoes.

Peridot said nothing, eyes aimed at the floor miserably.

"What, are you one of those weird girls who are too anal about their appearance to wear certain shit?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"Shut up, you clod! I don't care about how I look, okay? It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I just don't like shorts! Are you fucking dense?"

I held back the urge to slam her into the lockers and beat her. "Too fucking bad," I snarled through my teeth. I whipped the shorts at her, and they hit her face with an audible _thwap._ "Put them on, and quit bitching."

"Fine," Peridot squeaked out, scurrying away to change in peace. I released a breath of hot air and sat down on one of the benches that lined the lockers.

I opened up my phone. Three messages: one from a friend, two from my general manager. Seeing as Amethyst rarely had anything important to say, I opted to check my manager's messages first.

 **Carol:** I know you need the hours, but I'm afraid I can't have you coming in tonight. Inspection is today, and you understand why we can't have you around for that. I apologize for the short notice, and I'll let you make up the hours on Sunday if you'd like.

 **Carol:** Your hours on Sunday (if you'd like to accept them) are 1 P.M. to close. Please reply soon!

 **Me:** sunday sounds fine. good luck with the inspection.

I sighed and dug my fingers into my temples, rubbing stiff circles to alleviate the crazy feeling of vertigo making my head spin like a vinyl record.

It wasn't as if I were anything less than the average worker. I dressed well, worked well, and offered customers a mandatory level of politeness. The only issue was that my employment technically wasn't lawful. Not only did I work more than a minor was legally able to- I also worked under the table, meaning that I got my checks directly and didn't pay a dime in taxes.

Carol didn't want to risk the integrity of her business with the terms of my employment, but she was desperate for workers at the time and eventually decided that I could be a "special case".

I loathed being a special case more than anything, but if it paid the bills, I couldn't complain. God knows my mom's disability didn't pay for anything.

Peridot eventually came out, looking almost shy in my gym clothes. She'd tucked my shirt into the shorts she was so adamant on not wearing, and without the huge yellow raincoat, she looked even scrawnier.

I felt that if I wrapped my hands around her stomach, I'd be able to make the tips of my thumbs and middle fingers meet. Her thighs looked disproportionate to her torso in that they were of average size. My eyes trailed lower still, and that's when I realized.

In the space where her left calf should've been was a thick metal peg. It looked shiny and unscathed by time, and I suddenly felt like the most immense asshole in the entire fucking world.

"You don't have a leg," I said before I could stop myself.

Peridot flushed and turned away, her expression twisted into something almost pained. "No shit," she snapped.

I looked down at my shoes, feeling guilt rise like steam in my chest.

"Is it new?" I asked, thinking back to her struggle on the stairs.

"Fairly. I had to get it last August. My parents wanted me to rest and continue my therapy for another month, but I think I would've euthanized myself if I had to put up with that _agonizingly_ sedate torture for another thirty days," Peridot laughed bitterly.

"So is this your first day? At this school, I mean."

"I've been at this school since Monday," Peridot took a deep breath and limped over to me, sitting down on the bench to my right. "My family moved here for the operation."

"Oh. Sorry for not noticing you earlier," I murmured. "Everyone kind of blends together to me after a while."

"I blend in?" Peridot asked, a peculiar hopefulness in her big round eyes.

She absolutely did _not_ blend in. Her entire body was mismatched and disproportioned, and her hair was an unforgettable shock of platinum. Her voice was as unique as it was grating, and her vernacular included words I couldn't even imagine the average high schooler uttering.

But because I felt as if I'd slighted her enough for one day, I nodded very seriously and looked her in the eyes.

"Yeah. I hardly noticed you, actually," I said, which was only half a lie.

Peridot broke into a smile that split her face in half. I noticed right then that her eyes looked like round windows to the ocean- green and teal and glassy and brilliant.

My eyes drifted to her prosthetic again. With a decisive huff, I stood, my fingers slowly undoing the drawstrings of my sweatpants.

"Here- let's switch," I offered. "Give me the shorts and I'll let you wear these."

"Y-you mean it?" Peridot asked, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Sure. Go over there and I'll toss 'em to you."

Peridot leaped up, running as fast as her prosthetic leg would allow her to. I felt something pleasant fill my chest as I tugged off my sweatpants and tossed them to her.

Peridot thanked me profusely, passing me the shorts. I slipped them on and walked around to meet her. With my long sweatpants covering her ankles, one could never tell that from the left shin down, Peridot was made of steel and plastic.

Peridot played idly with her fingers, knotting and un-knotting them as she clasped her hands together. "So your name is Lapis, right?"

"Lapis Lazuli," I affirmed. "And you're Peridot."

She grinned wide, as if the mention of her name from a foreign tongue meant something to her.

"Wow. Thank you, Lazuli," Peridot said. "And uh- if it's no trouble, I'd rather you not tell people about my… _minor_ _inconveniences_."

Though missing legs were hardly minor in their capacity for inconvenience, I found some part of me that still sympathized with kicked puppies, and crying infants, and young amputees, and I nodded.

"I'll stay quiet," I promised.

"Thank you," Peridot sighed. "Uh- actually, as you know, I'm kind of new here, and while I know I might look like the type to be impossibly charming and lovable, I surprisingly don't have any friends yet and-,"

"It's cool," I interjected, raising a hand to hush her. "Give me your number. I'll text you tonight."

Peridot grinned brightly, offering me her cell number. We met eyes and shared the awkward kind of smile that only belongs to new acquaintances.

And suddenly we were shoved into a brief moment of tension in which neither of us moved, or spoke, or even breathed. Chills went down my spine.

"We should go back to class," Peridot said with impossible softness, as if she was reluctant to break the strange moment of silence.

"Yeah," I said, and the ground beneath me became solid once more.

I didn't even look at her as I walked out of the locker room, hopping up the stairs two at a time, and leaving Peridot to struggle on her own like a car puttering uphill with a flat tire.

The rest of the way I walked to class, holding my hand to my chest as if my heart might sink to the bottom of my rib cage if not held firmly in place.

* * *

"Lapis? Why are you home so early?" Mom asked as I trudged into our dinky little shoebox of a home.

"Carol called me off," I mumbled, tossing my schoolbag to the floor and kicking off my shoes.

"That's good. You work too much, Lapis. I'm glad you get a break."

"Yeah, well, I was supposed to make like sixty bucks today so…" I trailed off, sighing.

Mom was sitting pretty in the dining room, a cigarette burning between her lips and her pajamas from two nights ago still on. I could live one thousand years and never forget how she liked to sit and smoke, and put her used up Malibu's in a red solo cup filled with sink water.

Our house was basically an overturned cigar box. It was cramped, with two bedrooms, a single bathroom, and a fused kitchen/living room. Mom had decorated it with old wine bottles and Christmas lights- as if a warm appearance might fend away the mold growing within the walls.

It was cozy, like the feeling of being suffocated slowly within a hug.

A picture of my house taken in the eighth grade would look no different from a picture taken today. Nothing about it had changed at all since I was fourteen, save for the minor accumulation of dust.

I remember one year, I went out and bought a little oil painting from an outlet store. It had a soft pink ocean with a faded morning moon that peered out from a deep blue background. I'd hung it up in my room across from the window, so that whenever the sun broke through, the colors of the painting lit up like they were on fire.

But when my mom saw it, she had a fit. It took me an entire night to calm her down, and since then, I've had to keep the painting hidden away beneath my mattress. I think she's afraid that if the house changes too much, dad won't recognize it when he comes back.

I don't have the heart to tell her that dad wouldn't come back anyways- not even if our house stayed the same until the day they both died.

"What do you want for dinner, Lapis? I'll give you money and you can go to that Chinese restaurant you like and order takeout," Mom offered. I gritted my teeth. There was a reason I liked working dinner hours at Carol's restaurant.

"That place is expensive," I said robotically. "I'll just make myself a sandwich or something."

"Stop it," Mom snapped. "You need a real dinner."

"This is a real dinner. Seriously, mom- don't spend your money on me."

"I am your _mother,_ Lapis Lazuli, and it is my _duty_ to make sure you are fed." Mom had turned away from our old television set to glare at me.

I made a disgusted noise and snatched the bag of bread from the top of the fridge. I ripped a slice out and took a big bite of it. I winced. The bread was stiff.

Ignoring the dry taste, I pointed to the food in my mouth and scowled. "I am fed, okay? _Jesus_ ," I sneered, searching through the fridge for lunchmeat. I found a fresh pack of salami and packed it between two slightly rank pieces of bread.

Satisfied with my meal, I tied the bread bag up and closed the fridge with my foot. I picked up the sandwich and a paper plate, and trudged back to my room to eat in peace.

Mom poked her head into my room not five minutes later.

"Lapis?" she piped up hesitantly. I swallowed the last bite of my sandwich.

"Yeah?"

"Are you mad at me?"

I huffed. "No, I'm not. Is that all?"

"You know you need to stop talking to me like that."

"I know. I'm just stressed out. Sorry."

"Let's go get takeout, okay? I don't like the thought of you eating sandwiches for dinner."

I stared at my hands, feeling something tense pull my ribs together in the core of my chest. "I'm sorry mom. I just killed my appetite. Maybe next time, okay?"

Mom sighed, using her thumb to massage her temples. "Okay, Lapis. I'm going to go to bed now. Don't stay up too late," she warned.

"I won't," I promised, meeting her eyes.

My mom always had this tired, de-saturated air about her. The kind where you could look at her and tell that she might've been beautiful once. But like a cotton shirt thrown too many times through the wash, she had become wrinkled and faded and beyond recognition of her former self.

It was almost sad.

And as soon as she closed my bedroom door behind her, I let out a tremendous shaky breath. It was like a game I played with her that had droned on for far too long. We'd been entertaining it for a while now, and I still haven't told her that the Chinese takeout place went out of business a shy year after dad left.

I used to cry because of her, but four years have taught me that crying is only a waste of energy and salt.

Nowadays, coping consisted of me just trying not to think about it. Sometimes, it even worked. Other times, it didn't. This was one of the Other Times.

Before the worst of my bad thoughts could trap me, I dug out my phone and sent a text to the first person I could think of.

 **Me:** hey its lapis.

My phone buzzed not a minute later.

 **Peridot:** HI LAPIS! YOU KNOW, I WAS KIND OF SCARED YOU WERE JUST JOKING WHEN YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO TEXT ME, BUT OBVIOUSLY YOU WEREN'T!

 **Me:** whats up with the caps?

 **Peridot:** I LIKE HOW IT LOOKS. ALSO, I LIKE HOW IT SOUNDS WHEN I READ IT IN MY HEAD. ACTUALLY, I THINK I JUST LIKE IT OVERALL.

I laughed a bit at that, and when I re-read the text, I could almost hear Peridot's scratchy voice in my head.

 **Me:** oh.

 **Peridot:** SO WHAT'S UP?

 **Me:** nothing much. just thought I should text you so that you have my number.

 **Peridot:** CLEVER! ACTUALLY, YEAH, THIS IS GREAT! I HAVE A SEMI-URGENT QUESTION FOR YOU.

 **Me:** yes?

 **Peridot:** DO YOU HAVE A CAR?

 **Me:** yes. why, what do you need?

 **Peridot:** I KNOW WE JUST MET SO IT'S KIND OF WEIRD FOR ME TO REQUEST THINGS OF YOU, BUT IF I GAVE YOU GAS MONEY WOULD YOU GIVE ME A RIDE TO SCHOOL? IT'S FOR TRIVIAL REASONS, I ASSURE, BUT IT WOULD REALLY MEAN A LOT TO ME.

I frowned, glancing away from my screen to think it over for a moment. I knew I was just as strapped for cash as I was for friends, but I wasn't sure if I particularly wanted the morning company. I was even less sure if I wanted to have responsibility over someone I'd just met and wasn't even particularly good friends with.

Still, I felt almost _bound_ to her. As if I owed her something. As if, by some freakish clairvoyance, I knew that she'd pay me back in the future.

So against my stronger will and better judgment, I texted her back.

 **Me** : sure.


	2. Something To Deserve It

**Hello! Wow, this fanfiction is going to take the rest of my high school career to complete if I keep this kind of update schedule :,)**

 **Anyways, I was really nervous about posting this because of how well-received the first chapter was, and because of how anticipated this one seemed to be! I hope I don't disappoint you!**

 **TRIGGER WARNINGS: Swearing, Assault, Slight Mentions of Eating Disorders.**

* * *

Something To Deserve It

 **Me:** i'm here. don't forget my gym clothes.

 **Peridot:** OKAY!

I turned my radio volume down, allowing the smooth chatter of Rover's Morning Glory to fade into a hardly audible whisper. Peridot's house was right along the road to school, stationed like a bright yellow suburban watchtower on the corporation line between Beach City and Wickersburg.

I stared at the front door of her faded two-story home, my fingers drumming against the wheel.

It was a home unfit to be viewed in the late summer- the de-saturated paint and barren lawn screamed October. Even parked outside, I felt an otherworldly chill run down my arms, as if I had just imposed upon a mausoleum.

Peridot emerged from the doorway after a few more minutes, donning a heavy army-green sweatshirt and a trademark pair of obnoxiously long jeans. The sheer bigness of her clothes only ever served to accentuate just how small she was. Though I'm sure this wasn't her intentions, they made her look gaunt and sickly.

Peridot stopped in her tracks as soon as her eyes fell upon my SUV. I suddenly felt heat rise to my cheeks as I realized that she had recognized my car. I sunk lower into my seat and debated peeling out of her driveway right then before she could curse me out at six in the morning.

A growing scowl began to accumulate on her face like a morning thunderstorm. Peridot dropped to her knees and crawled down the front porch steps.

It was then I noticed the lack of handrails (or any mechanism befitting a disabled kid for that matter) attached to the steep concrete stairs. Peridot winced and stood up as soon as her feet hit even ground and limped over to my car.

By the time she ripped the door open and hurled ten dollars and my gym clothes at my face, I'd already been braced for impact.

"You were the asshole who splashed me yesterday!" Peridot screeched, pulling herself into the car and slamming the door. She fixed a seatbelt over her chest and glared at me viciously.

"Sorry."

"You're a real clod, you know that?"

"I should make you walk," I deadpanned, although I knew I wouldn't.

Despite my lack of intent, the threat seemed to shut her up well enough. She sullenly crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window in stony silence.

I pulled out of her driveway and started towards the school.

Eventually the silence seemed to get to Peridot. Her annoyed expression never left her face, but she'd progressively turned away from the window to lean back against the car seat. She uncrossed her arms, awkwardly stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie.

"Thanks for picking me up," she muttered, killing the silence between us.

"Thanks for the gas money," I shot back, my voice flat. "This wouldn't be related to your limp, would it?"

It wasn't like her gait had been anywhere near elegant or graceful yesterday, but it least it hadn't been noticeable. The way she walked to my car just moments ago made it look as if someone had stuck thumbtacks through the soles of her sneakers.

"Oh fuck, am I that obvious?" Peridot cursed.

"Unfortunately."

Peridot let out a weighted groan and dug two fingers into her temples. "How pathetic is it that I've walked more yesterday that I've walked cumulatively over the past three months?"

"Very."

"I hate this," she frowned, glaring at her leg as if it had stopped existing just to spite her.

"Sucks," I shrugged, continuing to stare ahead. I couldn't bring myself to feel bad for her, especially since it was her fault for cheating her way out of physical therapy.

Nothing else was uttered the rest of the way to school. Peridot's hands inched towards her left leg to massage the sore and underused muscles there, and I tried not to notice.

I parked and shut off the engine, getting out and walking around my car to help Peridot out. Dad used to help mom out of the car every time without fail- even if they were just going on a run for groceries.

"If a boy doesn't open doors for you," Dad would say, "then he's not worth your time."

I offered Peridot a hand, of which she promptly smacked away.

"I can do it myself!" she snapped, glaring daggers into me. I rolled my eyes and took a few steps back, crushing my father's advice under the worn heel of my boot.

I'll admit- it was kind of funny watching her struggle as she tried to ease herself out of my car. There was a slight landing between the door and the ground, but even the reduced gap was still a solid foot.

Peridot half-stood, half-squatted there like a puppy going down the stairs for the first time. Eventually, she seemed to realize that we'd be late if she were to sit there much longer, so she steeled herself and hopped down.

She hissed as the ground came into jilted contact with her prosthetic, nearly collapsing right then. I jumped forward to catch her just as she was about to crash, slinging my arms around her chest.

"I got you," I said, breathless from the close call.

Peridot froze for a moment before thinking better of herself and taking her weight back from me. She shoved me off of her, and stared at the ground with a strained expression, as if she were about to cry. She took in a shaky breath and held it for a moment before letting it back into the atmosphere.

"Thanks," she said.

"Yeah," I said back.

I locked my car and let us in through the utility doors. It was still a few minutes before the morning bell, meaning that we were permitted to roam around the halls or sit and talk in the cafeteria. There were a couple of stairs leading up to the main floor, and I waited at the top of them for her.

Peridot frowned and she took a breath before climbing up the steps. She smiled triumphantly when she reached the top; only to have that smile iron itself back into a grimace as she seemed to realize that we had two more flights left before we could get to the All-In room, which was conveniently located at the top floor of our school building.

"We can take the maintenance elevators up," I suggested.

"No! I'm fine. Just give me a second to catch my breath," Peridot insisted.

"You were about to cry climbing up three stairs," I snapped back, and if voices could roll their eyes, mine would have.

"I will not sacrifice my dignity by taking some _pitiful_ elevator!" Peridot insisted, and I suddenly realized that she was shaking.

It was in that moment that I finally understood: in the same way I refused to accept extended homework deadlines, Peridot refused to accept the automated way up. Something empathetic and chilling clicked in my mind right then, and I wasn't quite sure what it was, but it made Peridot look a little more filling in her loose clothes.

"I'm sorry. If you want, I can carry you," I said, my expression blank. Peridot whirled around to meet my eyes with an expression laughably stuck between insulted and confused. I continued on, resting my elbows on the staircase railing. "I mean, I carry all the heavy pasta boxes at work when we get deliveries. I could probably carry you."

Peridot looked at me blankly. "A _pasta box?_ "

"You're probably lighter than one," I countered.

"I highly doubt-,"

"Not individual boxes. Those are only a few pounds each. But we put them in milk crates and carry them in on pallets, and those are usually over a hundred pounds," I rambled, my face suddenly burning.

Peridot growled and dug her index finger into her temple. "While I appreciate the sentiments, I assure you- I do not need to be carried!" She snapped, turning on her human heel and staggering up the stairs. She bit her lower lip as she climbed, eventually sinking in shame to her hands as she padded up the rest of the first flight like some lame four-legged animal.

I climbed up behind her, laughing a bit as her face turned an inhuman shade of red.

"Lazuli…" Peridot groaned.

"Nobody's looking," I tempted, dangling my voice in front of her like the last piece of pizza at a kid's birthday party. "What time is it now? Two minutes to the bell?"

Peridot stood up shakily. She said nothing, but scooted closer- which I accepted as complete and willing consent. I got down on one knee and gestured for her to put her legs on either side of me.

Once she was in position, I stood. Peridot's arms slung around my back like the straps of a loose book bag as gravity pulled her down. I jounced a little, settling her into position before taking on the stairs. Though Peridot weighed next to nothing, I was still huffing by the time I reached the second floor.

So she was just a _tad_ heavier than our packaged goods.

"So why can't you walk again?" I asked with a thin voice.

"Three words: lactic acid buildup," Peridot sighed. "I _may_ have cut some slight corners with my physical therapy, and now my practically atrophic muscles are making me suffer for it."

"Christ," I snickered, letting her back down and walking slower to help her keep pace as we made our way to the All-In Room.

We earned a huge smile from Mrs. Wilt as we ambled into the room and took our seats. As soon as I sat down, Mrs. Wilt leaned over her desk like some exotic perched bird and sat her chin down on the backs of her hands.

"You've got a friend, I see."

"I guess," I shrugged. "I mean, she's okay."

Mrs. Wilt gave me a knowing smile and patted my shoulder. "I knew you two would get along."

She retreated back behind her desk and began to organize her papers for class. As Mrs. Wilt was the type of teacher to make the most of her time during class, and often worked from the tardy bell to the dismissal bell. As soon as the familiar screech of the morning buzz pierced our ears, she already had two students passing out papers.

I worked steadily the entire class, finishing early with a solid twenty minutes remaining to sleep. I was always the first to finish my work in class. Maybe it was because I was one of the few kids on earth who didn't see Health as a complete and total waste of my time.

I passed my work into Mrs. Wilt and let my head fall onto my arms. My eyelids slipped shut, and I felt my consciousness ebb.

Mrs. Wilt was one of those rare teachers who didn't believe in busywork. Whenever we finished our tasks for the day, we were permitted to move about the classroom and talk or lie our heads down. For kids like me, who only pulled a rough four hours of sleep from a good night, her class was a blessing.

I had almost dozed off completely when I felt a finger poke my arm. I groaned in protest and buried my nose further into my elbow.

"Hey, Lazuli," a hushed voice whispered. Hot air hit the shell of my ear and I shivered.

"Mm _yes?"_ I slurred. Strangely enough, I was much more polite when half asleep. Perhaps because I couldn't muster up the energy to be mean.

"I was kind of wondering if you wanted to do something tonight after school. You know, like hang out or whatever."

"I work," I droned, slowly waking back up- a process which began like a leaky faucet and ended like a water surge.

"'Till when?"

"Ten," I snapped, jerking my head from the warm cradle of my arms and glaring at her.

"We can hang out afterwards," Peridot pushed, oblivious to the scowl chiseled onto my expression. "It's not like we have school tomorrow or anything."

"I work tomorrow, too."

"We don't have to be out long."

"Do you ever quit?" I huffed, running a stiff hand through my hair.

"Absolutely not," Peridot gleamed (as if infuriating pigheadedness was a trait to be proud of) with a snarky grin plastered across her pointed face.

I leaned back until my head bumped against the cool brick wall. I could feel Peridot's eyes burning into me- glimmering in anticipation.

"Fine. Fine, okay," I relented. "You know Carol's Family Diner?"

"No, but I can look it up," Peridot said, plucking a smart phone from her pocket and typing the address into the search engine. She stared at the bright screen for a moment before smiling. "Found it."

"I should be out by ten tonight. If you still really want to do something then, meet me by the front doors."

"Excellent!" Peridot cheered, squeezing her hands into fists.

I didn't know how any human could be so excitable at eight in the morning, but I didn't question it. With her dopey smile and bright eyes, Peridot looked almost cute. Like a kid let loose with $20 in the candy aisle of a drug mart. I offered her a tired smile and checked the clock. I still had a solid ten minutes to catch the last fleeting semblance of sleep I might get until my lunch period.

"'M tired," I announced, hoping she'd get the message. "Don't let me sleep past the bell."

"Okay!" Peridot saluted.

Amused with her enthusiasm, I tucked my head into the crook of my elbow and closed my eyes, inviting myself to the lull of sleep once more.

Peridot broke into my peace like the loud static on an old television. She poked my cheek. "Lazuli, I-,"

I snatched her hand in mine without looking up and viciously slammed it onto my desk. Imagining her wincing from the sting brought me some cruel level of satisfaction. " _Please_ shut your fucking mouth," I begged, my voice low and dangerous.

Peridot yelped, and though I felt her tense, she made little effort to retract her hand from mine. "Y-yes, of course. My bad," she squeaked out.

When I woke ten minutes later to the sound of a ringing bell, Peridot's hand was still ensnared beneath mine. She was very obviously trying to keep her eyes anywhere else but in my general direction, a conflicted look muddling her bright shades of sea green.

I said nothing, releasing her and jamming my fingers into the pockets of my shorts as I walked like an undead zombie to my next class.

* * *

Fridays at Carol's Diner meant lots of people. And lots of people meant lots of tips.

Unfortunately, it also meant very little time to relax. Between running around from table to table and trying to keep everything in order, there was hardly a moment to enjoy a lunch break. I remember my first Friday shift at the diner. After two hours, I'd locked myself in the employee restrooms, cried, and nearly quit.

After two years, however, I'd become accustomed to the erratic flow of customers packing themselves into the booths like fat pink sardines.

The routine was simple. Seat customers, get drinks, take orders, smile (of course), bring out food, and clean the table after they finished. Sometimes a nice family would take pity on me and leave a tip. Most times, they didn't.

I raced back into the kitchen, eyes darting from wall to wall before targeting the hairnet-clad blonde mess belonging to my co-worker and shift manager, Amethyst. I saw her juggling two meals at once, brows knit in concentration.

That was the worst part about Carol's Diner: it was always understaffed, meaning whoever was on duty constantly had to overcompensate.

Tonight, we had just three people to manage the late dinner rush: Amethyst, a Senior named Buck who was our busboy, and me. Pearl, Amethyst's girlfriend, used to come in and help me wait tables, but she'd been on a leave of absence lately.

"Table three's pissed," I warned Amethyst, shooting a glance out into the dining area.

The man seated there sent a furious glance to his wristwatch and upon noticing the time, crossed his arms and rolled his eyes like a moody teenager.

Amethyst followed my gaze and laughed humorlessly. "Tell them to hold their fuckin' horses. I'm going as fast as I can." The stocky girl swore like a sailor- a curse word to her was like garlic to cooking: essential.

"Jesus," I groaned. I definitely wasn't getting any tips from them.

I walked briskly to table three, already prepared for the sure verbal abuse they were going to punish my untimely service with. The family at the table, a man and his two kids, fired a collective glare aimed right for my eyes.

I plastered on a wide, falsely sympathetic grin, and spoke in a strained voice two octaves above my normal range. "I'm so sorry for the wait, but your food's going to be just a little bit longer."

"Look, lady, we've been waiting here for nearly an hour. My kids are starving, and all I'm asking for is my goddamned dinner," the father, a lean man with trimmed gray hair and sunken yellow eyes, snapped.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, sir. We only have one cook on shift right now, and she's working as quickly as she can. I promise, I'll have your food out as soon as possible."

That was a blatant lie, but often one had to do whatever it took to quell an angry customer. I've had indignant families empty entire ketchup bottles onto their table after a long wait, and that mess was hell to clean.

I hurried back to the kitchen just as Amethyst was ringing up table three's plates. I thanked her, balancing the dishes upon my arms, and rushed them over to the family with an apology already locked and loaded at the tip of my tongue. Unfortunately, it seemed the family was wearing bulletproof vests.

"Finally," the man huffed, shooing me away. "Don't expect a tip, lady," he added as I rushed to the front to accept a check from a leaving patron.

After a half hour, I'd cashed out most of the late night patrons, and now, fifteen minutes past closing, only table three remained. They seemed near complete with their meals as well, and I felt secure enough to help Amethyst break down the machines.

Breaking down the machines meant shutting them down, pulling them apart, and properly washing them for the morning crowd the next day (Which, coincidentally enough, was also us). We didn't have too many big things to rip apart- Carol's Diner prided itself on its "homemade" menu- but the pasta machine was always a struggle.

"I fuckin' hate this place," Amethyst snarled, heaving the grain bin from the machine. She set it down in the wash bin, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the egg noodle paste that was caked on like a thick layer of paint. "I swear to god, I'm gonna quit."

"You say that every week," I pointed out, rolling my eyes.

I met Amethyst in freshmen year, right after mom got fired and I started worrying about things that most kids my age didn't even know existed. Like home foreclosure. Or starvation.

She had been a senior at the time, but we'd been shoved into the same Economics class. We sat together for the entire semester, and after hearing about my need for a steady income, she offered to recommend me for a job at a desperate little family diner.

Her girlfriend, Pearl, had worked here at the time as well. Pearl was a conservative ballerina- a pretty thing with a body like polished marble, and fiery blue eyes that shone like the stained glass windows of a grandiose chapel. She'd been going to a liberal arts school in Empire City to study dance, but broke her ankle in the midst of her final performance of the last show of her third year, and was forced to quit dance forever afterwards.

She'd quit work to have a series of intense and costly surgeries, and between her and Amethyst, they hardly made enough to get through each month.

Amethyst would often stay late to make extra food after she clocked out just to bring a hot meal home. It was against our employee policy, and technically stealing, but Amethyst only had one other option in that respect: to starve. And she refused to let that happen.

"Pearl already fuckin' starved herself once," Amethyst would say, "And I'm never letting her go through that shit again."

I respected her greatly for that, and I'd taken the fall more than once for stock that mysteriously went missing.

"Shit, we've got another customer," Amethyst sneered, craning her neck to get a better vantage point of the doorway. She shoved me towards the kitchen doorway, "Go and tell her we're closed."

I turned on my heel, frowning when I saw a familiar shock of platinum hair. My eyes darted to the kitchen clock, which read 10:32. I cursed and rushed out.

"Oh god, Peridot, I'm sorry," I said, frantically running my nails through my hair. "We were packed tonight. I can't leave until I clean the last table."

"Will that take long?"

I shot a wary glance over towards table three. "I don't know."

Peridot sighed heavily, bottling her annoyance with a twist-on cap. "It's okay," she said, her voice deflated like a forgotten balloon at a child's unattended birthday party. She retreated to one of the waiting benches, parking herself in the seat and whipping out her phone.

"Do you want something to drink?" I asked, hoping that Amethyst hadn't broken down the fountains for the night.

"No thanks," Peridot muttered. She glanced up at me with some random and newfound sympathy. "So do you do this every night?"

"It's not usually this bad," I promised, wringing the coarse fabric of my apron between my fingers. "I usually do actually leave at ten. Fridays are just busy." An exhausted laugh escaped me- the kind that bubbles up in one's throat before plummeting right back down into the pit of their stomach like a dud bottle rocket.

I didn't even know why I was laughing, but as I did, my fingers found my eyes as if to trap some of the salt trying to escape them.

"Are you okay?" Peridot asked, reaching up to touch my arm. I inched out of her reach instantly, because her hands were so warm and alive that they burned against my skin.

"I'm getting by," I said, riding the ghost of a chuckle. "Hang on, I'm gonna go see if my shift manager needs any help."

I trudged back into the kitchen, feeling somehow heavier than before. By time I stepped in, most of the machines had already been shut down and were in the process of being cleaned.

"She's cute, Lapdog," Amethyst hummed, a trademark grin spreading mischievously across her face.

"She's clingy and annoying. Don't do this to me," I shot back, offering Amethyst a show of teeth. "And stop it with the nickname. I thought we agreed to ditch that sophomore year."

"Never," Amethyst said. Her cheeky snicker faded into a genuine smile after a moment, and she glanced up at the clock. "You _should_ probably go, though. You know you ain't gettin' paid for overtime."

I frowned. Due to my "special conditions", I wasn't electronically logged into the clock-in system. Therefore, whatever hours I was scheduled for were the hours I was paid for, which meant any work past due time was a volunteer pursuit.

"I don't want to leave you with those assholes," I murmured, jerking my thumb over to table three. The father was putting on his coat and digging around in his pockets.

"I'll be fine, Lapis. I've been doing this since you were in middle school. Now go on- you deserve to do something nice for yourself." Amethyst patted me on the shoulder, grinning.

I couldn't ever tell when I wanted to cry because I'd become so good at stopping myself before I even started to hiccup, but I think I felt like crying right then. I choked out a weak "thank you" before racing to the break room and changing back into my street clothes.

When I returned, car keys in hand, Peridot was nowhere to be seen. I felt my heart drop.

And that's when I heard him.

"This is none of your concern, lady!"

My head whipped around towards table three, and I could physically feel the stones of fear as they settled at the bottom of my stomach.

Peridot stood toe-to-toe with the man, her hands glued firmly to her hips and her eyes in a deadlock with his. I cursed, pocketed my keys, and unfroze from my state of horror for just long enough to run over.

"Is there a problem here?" I asked, straining my voice to keep it from wobbling.

"Yeah- this insolent clod is trying to leave without paying. Not particularly well, either," Peridot explained, her eyes feral and violent as they bore through the man. My brow furrowed. I walked around to the bill I'd set on the table, and opened the pay booklet to find only a receipt with a nasty message.

"Sir, you have to pay for your meal," I demanded with the caution an officer dealing with an armed suspect might possess. "Leaving without paying is theft."

The man laughed, herding his children behind him. "Look, lady. I paid for a _service._ I paid to have warm food out in a timely manner, of which I received neither. I don't see why I should be expected to pay for this garbage."

"I'm sorry, but I can't control how fast your food is made, or what quality it is. That's not my job. If you would like a coupon for your next visit, I'd be happy to give you one, but you can't leave without paying."

"I don't give a shit what your job is! There's no excuse for this bullshit, and I'm not paying."

He got close to my face- so close that I could feel his hot, rank breath hit my cheeks, and see the dark pits of his steel blue eyes. I stood my ground, clenching my fists into a loose fist.

"Sir," I said, my voice cracking behind grit teeth, "if you don't pay, your charge will come out of _my_ pocket."

"Then it looks like you get to pay your first bill. Caleb, Annie, let's go," he snapped, pushing past me and shoving me into another table. His kids followed suit, tilting their noses a sharp 45 degrees towards the sky as they followed his tail like little trained dogs.

"Hey clod!" Peridot yelled. Her fingers reached behind her, curling around a half-empty glass of Coca-Cola.

There was a split second that seemed to last four times that long, in which a horrific realization fell upon me. There was hardly time to collect my frantic thoughts as the man turned around on his toes like one of those little music-box ballerinas, and Peridot hurled the contents of the glass at his face. His expression morphed like wet clay, from confusion, to shock, and then finally into unbridled rage. A vein formed on his balding forehead.

Peridot didn't seem to realize the shit she'd gotten herself into until she fully registered the absolute level of undiluted hatred in his expression. It was only then did she run, cowering behind me like I was some kind of human barricade.

"Sir, I-,"

A fist clutched the collar of my shirt, and I was ripped forward. A voice screamed into my ears. The man's skin was soaked and glistening, his lips peeled back to reveal a row of crooked yellow teeth.

I couldn't move, and it felt like I was sucking in the air from an empty plastic water bottle as I struggled to take oxygen into my lungs.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Peridot run towards the kitchen.

The man shook me like a toy whose batteries had run out. His kids laughed.

And then I was released. I ripped away so hard, my own momentum sent my ass crashing to the ground. My entire body shook as I began to register the world around me once again. An army green sweater blocked my view, and bony hands gripped my shoulders. Shivering, I closed my eyes and grounded myself on the contact.

"If you don't leave, sir, I _will_ notify the police," A voice I recognized as Amethyst's threatened.

The man squeezed out a few more expletives before storming away, peeling out of our parking lot with an audible screech.

As soon as I heard the sound of his engine fade, I opened my eyes and covered my mouth with my hands. The first thing I saw when I returned to earth from orbit was Peridot, who was staring down at me with those huge concerned eyes.

"It's okay, Lapis," Peridot said, as if 'okay' was somehow an objectively definite thing to her.

"No, yeah- I'm fine," I said, nudging her away. I stood on shaky legs and pulled out a chair to collapse onto. I opened the check and cursed. $46.07- nearly six hours of work completely wasted.

I felt a firm calloused hand on my shoulder and leaned into it. Amethyst rubbed circles into me gently.

"I can call you off tomorrow if you want," she offered, fingers drumming against my arm.

"No, I'm good," I said, feeling totally stupid over my moment of panic now that it was in retrospect. "I need the hours anyways."

My eyes found Peridot. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Only if you don't mind," Peridot murmured, biting her lip. "I mean, it's only a half-hour walk, and I don't even have to be home until midnight, so-,"

"You don't have a fucking leg. I'm not making you walk. Come on," I huffed, standing. Peridot's eyes popped open wide, and she shot a nervous sideways glance towards Amethyst.

Thankfully, Amethyst didn't say a word. She only pushed my chair in behind me and hugged me tight. "Text me when you're home, girl," she murmured.

"Okay," I promised.

Satisfied with my vow, Amethyst pulled away. She clapped Peridot on the back and grinned. "It was nice meeting you, Dot."

Peridot nodded stiffly, standing with her back ramrod straight as if someone had dropped ice cubes down her shirt. With one more promise to drive safe, I lead us out.

As soon as we were alone in the parking lot, Peridot smacked my arm.

"What was that for?" I asked, instinctively rubbing my arm to soothe the sting.

"I told you to keep _my_ problems to yourself!" Peridot snapped. "You _ass!"_

When someone is finally consumed by the violent thrashing waves that threaten to drown them, there comes a point when their ears sink beneath the water, and suddenly, the terrifying crash of salt and foam stops sounding so loud. Everything becomes muted, and the world goes quiet.

I stared at her, the freakish absence of emotion boiling in my chest, and I locked eyes with her. "Shut up, Peridot" I said with plain, clear intonation.

And amazingly enough, she did.

I hopped into my car and opened up the passenger side for her. With a glance, she pulled herself into the seat and buckled up without a word. I held my breath, and my lungs burned.

"Are you okay?" she asked as I pulled out of the lot.

I shrugged. "I'll be fine," I said with a puff of hot hair.

"I apologize for getting you in trouble with that guy," Peridot said. "But in my defense, he was infuriating. Something had to be done."

"It's okay," I murmured. "I'm okay, really. I know it kind of sucks, but this is just life for me, you know?"

There was a soft moment of tranquil silence as Peridot's fingers found her leg. "Yeah," she whispered, as if she were afraid loud words would scare away the mood. "I know."

And after I had long dropped her off and gone home, I came to find something resting on the passenger seat. It was a handful of crumpled bills and coins. I parked in my driveway and counted it: $50, in two twenties, and ten singles.

I dialed Peridot's number.

"Find it?" Peridot said, and I could hear the shit-eating grin on her face.

"You're taking it back," I demanded.

"Absolutely not."

"I don't take charity. Especially not from near strangers," I snapped.

"Yeah, well I'm tentative to point out that I usually don't let near strangers piggy-back me up stairs either, but sometimes we need help, and there's nothing we can do about it," she shot back. "So if I were you, I would just imagine you did something to deserve it."

She promptly hung up before I could get another good word in.

I shook my head and sighed, taking the cash and stuffing it into my pockets. I locked my car, and kicked my shoes off as soon as I walked through the door. Mom was already fast asleep.

With a set mind and a deep frown, I opened one of the cupboards and pulled out a dusty old mason jar.

We used to keep homemade jams and fireflies in these old glasses, but after a while, Mom stopped going to the farmer's market, and I stopped playing outside. I dropped the money into the jar and secured it.

I rifled through my schoolbag for a moment before fishing out a sheet of notebook paper and a marker. I scrawled 'PERIDOT' on the paper and stuck it to the side of the glass.

I shoved the jar underneath my bed, and jammed it between a painting of the sky, and an old metal lunchbox.

And that night, I fell asleep with the rocking tides of a sea-green ocean and the warmth of washed out sunlight.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, or followed! It means the world and more!**


	3. Think About It

**I mentioned it on my Tumblr, but I'll mention it here as well: I will no longer be writing this story for the sake of Steven Universe or Lapidot. Frankly, I've all but lost interest in both due to the direction the show has been going in.**

 **Despite, I will still be continuing (and hopefully finishing) for the sake of myself. I really do love this plot, and the characters I've developed. Lapis and Peridot will more or less be name-holders at this point. I'm still not sure if this is going to get reception anymore due to my sporadic chapter posts or the drastic difference between this story and TTHG, but I hope those who continue to read will enjoy it!**

 **Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following!**

 **TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR: Child Abuse, Mental Illness**

* * *

Think About It

My father had nailed it into me since I'd been old enough to walk: when invited into somebody else's home, you take off your shoes. Some memories of my childhood are singed and faded at the edges like Polaroid pictures with bad memories that are thrown in a bonfire, but others I remember in such vivid detail, I could close my eyes and watch them like a movie in the blackness.

Like, I can still remember bursting through the door of my late grandmother's house on Christmas morning about ten years ago. I'd gotten a pair of brand-new light up sneakers courtesy of my parents (who only kept up the whole Santa thing until it became too troublesome to sneak around me for an entire month), and I'd raced into the living room.

My grandmother's house had always been earthy in color, and especially so in the years before she passed. Overwhelming light gave her migraines, and so none of the lamps were ever turned on, and every muted brown and burgundy in her house was made to be even duller.

But when I barreled in there like a hurricane, the soles in my feet illuminated the room in a cosmic glow, and I stood at the center of the universe.

But then there was a jerk to the collar of my puffy blue coat, and I was yanked back until I met eyes like the sharp end of a knife. My dad's lips drew back to reveal a glistening row of teeth. His exact words are lost to me now, but I remember the terror that gripped me harder than he did as he jostled me back and forth, warning me that if I ever did something that disrespectful again, he'd smack me into next year.

My father's hands were far too calloused to offer the illusion of hitting lightly, so even walking into the foreign land of his new, two-story house a decade later, I made sure to wipe my shoes on the doormat thoroughly before discarding them.

"You look nice today," Dad remarked as he led me into the dining room.

I shrugged my thanks, taking a seat on one of the wooden barstools at the counter.

"Any boys yet?" Dad asked.

It had been made evident since my childhood that I was a pretty thing- mainly because since then, my father had trained me to be wary of boys. But now, I think he felt like he might've been too frightening in his warnings, because he looked almost dejected when I told him I was still yet to be kissing football players under the bleachers during halftime.

Dad grunted uncomfortably, "Right. Any uh, you know- girls?"

I quirked my brow. _"What?"_

"You know, I don't want to be invasive, but Crystal and I had a talk about being more open-minded or whatever. I was just wondering since you never seem to take interest when I ask you about guys."

"Oh, thanks," I said, punctuating my murmur with an awkward chuckle. "And also: no."

To be honest, I hadn't really put much thought into my sexuality. Who I liked didn't seem like a hard-pressed issue when I was busy spending all my time trying to figure out how I was going to keep my house from getting foreclosed upon.

What I did know was that Leonardo DiCaprio was not as good as the girls my age made him out to be, and if given the chance, I'd totally be Ellen Page's co-star.

But I mean- wasn't that everyone's opinion?

"Do you like the new paint?" Dad coughed, breaking me from my thoughts.

"It's alright," I shifted uncomfortably.

The dining room, like every other room in the house, was dominated by a pristine white. Sitting on my ass in a sweater straight out of the Goodwill, and a pair of jeans that bore rips not intended for fashion, I couldn't help but feel like some horrible stain of color against the whiteness of the world. My dark skin and hair felt like mud on the walls, and I tucked myself further into my coat to hide myself.

Dad sat down next to me, crossing his legs at the ankles and smiling warmly. A maroon blazer was stretched over his broad shoulders, making him look preppy and neat in a way that he had never been before. My father had always been an endorser of Harley Davidson jackets and flashy combat boots with buckles that used to jostle when he walked, but he must've tossed those parts of himself somewhere Crystal would never find them, as I never saw him wearing them anymore.

My father had always liked to act above himself anyways. He called movies "matinees", and used to yell at me for drinking tap-water when we had "a perfectly good filter on our refrigerator door".

"So how's work?" Dad prompted. I felt kind of bad- he was going to run out of one-sided conversation starters eventually.

"Fine. Carol had me on grill last night."

"Is that not usual?" Dad perked up.

"I'm always on hosting."

"Well, that's a nice surprise then. You'll probably be making more soon. I'm glad- maybe you won't have to work so many hours."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "With tips, I make above minimum wage anyways. Amethyst told me she only makes about a dollar over on grill- and that's after taxes. So I'll probably be making about equal, if not less."

Dad rubbed his big hands together and stared ahead as if we were reading from the 80's sitcom script from a heartwarming episode of _Full House._

"I'm sorry, Lapis," he said. "I just don't like you working so long. It's too much for a girl your age."

I offered him a tight smile and clenched my fists. "Yeah, I know."

"You're just a kid, Lapis. You know that, right?" Dad sighed.

I imagine that I must've been quite a spectacle: a teenager wearing her body like a grown-up. Perhaps I still looked like a teenager to some people, but when I stared at myself through the bathroom mirror in those rare moments of peace that only took place after a warm shower, I could look at the deep wrinkles set in the corners of my eyes and know that my body was lying to me.

I thought a few times of modeling for skincare advertisements. I could see them perfectly: _"Acts Like a Middle-Aged Woman, Still Looks Eighteen! Dermatologists Hate Her!"_

Like a wave washing over me, the quietness of my father's house suddenly became overwhelming. I realized that my dad's house had never been silent in all my four years of visiting.

"Dad, where's Naomi?"

"She's out shopping with Crystal." Dad paused. "I wanted to send them out so we could talk alone for a little."

"About?"

"Do I need a reason? I just wanted to catch up, you know? Have a little one-on-one time."

I knew that was straight bullshit the second it left his mouth. My father hated being alone with me. He'd told me one time when I was fifteen in the heat of an argument that he couldn't stand to look at me because I had the eyes my mother once had before she went catatonic.

Or maybe he could bother to look at them now, because maybe the light in my eyes had disappeared just as hers had.

"What do you want, Dad?" I asked. "Seriously, I mean."

Dad sighed. "I guess I should cut to it, huh? Look, I wanted to talk to you about my offer. It's still on the table, you know."

I felt my body freeze all at once. Dad had been pushing for this for a while now, but he'd only asked me once about a year ago. I steadied my breathing before responding.

"You know I can't do that to Mom," I said lowly, the hair at the base of my neck sticking up.

"Don't think about her," Dad whispered. "Think about you. Anyone can see how tired you are, Lapis. You shouldn't have to do this. You shouldn't have to be your mother's caretaker. You should be out with friends, and studying for college. You should be having fun."

"Are you kidding me right now?" I asked.

"I'm as serious as ever."

"Don't you think it's a little too late to start being a father to me?"

I clenched my jaw and felt the warm blood rush back through my veins.

"Lapis-,"

"No, Dad, you know what? I didn't choose this," I cut him off. "This isn't the life I thought I'd have when I was a kid, but here I am anyways- and I just have to deal with it."

" _Lapis_ …" An idiot with enough common sense to fill his empty head would know to stop there. Unfortunately, I was not privileged enough to be that idiot.

"I'm not done talking," I snarled, my voice crescendo-ing at a dangerously exponential rate, "You think you're doing me some big _fucking_ favor, but you can't just take my life from me and then decide to give it back whenever the hell you want. Dad, I-,"

What happened next registered only several seconds after my ass was already plastered to the floor. I cupped my burning cheek with trembling hands and tried to keep my breathing steady.

"You do not swear at me in _my own fucking house,_ you hear me?"

"You're a great dad, you know that?" I sneered back, scrambling to my feet. "A real _fan-freaking-tastic_ dad."

"You fucking smartass," my father sneered. "Why can't you be nice, huh? You're such a nasty brat. I offer you _my house_ and _my family_ , and you can't even pretend to be grateful? I don't even want you here- this was all Crystal's idea, because she thinks you have it _so fucking rough."_

It was nice talking to my real father again. It's a little depressing, but I felt closest to my father when we were screaming at each other. That gentle restrained guy who made small talk with me at the kitchen counter was nice, but I'd never seen him before in my life.

"This is _your_ fault!" I burst out.

I got slapped again, but I was prepared for it this time. I stared at my father with all the hatred I could bring myself to feel without crying. "Thanks for having me over, but I've got to go now," I said through grinding teeth.

"Good! Get the hell out!"

I stormed to the front hall, slipped into my shoes without tying them, and willed myself to sprint as fast as I could out the front door.

"Oh, Lapis-,"

Crystal was shoved out of my way as I took in my first breath of clean air.

I stopped to stare at her. I screwed my face up into the meanest snarl I could manage, and jabbed a finger into her chest. "You stay out of my fucking life, okay?" I said, my voice low and dangerous. "I don't need your pity. I am _fine."_

Crystal put a dainty hand over her lips, her eyes glazing over. As I shouldered past her, I could hear Naomi exclaim, "Mommy, she said a bad word!"

I vaulted over the porch steps and raced down my father's street. I felt heat well up in my chest, but pushed it down, promising to myself that I would be allowed to cry as soon as I was safely out of eyeshot. But even after jogging halfway down the street, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I think it's possible that I taught myself to suppress my tears a little too well, because what initially was a weakness is now nonfunctioning.

Maybe it was a good thing that I didn't break down however, because after only a shy minute of dazed walking, I heard the revving of a car engine behind me, and my Dad came leaning out the window of his shiny gray Chevy Impala.

"Lapis!"

"Leave me alone!" My eyes darted about for a quick escape.

"Come on- you know I didn't mean to yell!"

"Liar!"

Dad suddenly began to laugh. "Lapis, sweetie, you know I was joking. Don't be upset. Come on, I'll take you home."

"Stop it! Get away!"

He laughed again, because I guess when you have nothing to lose, these games just become a thing of entertainment. "Lapis, I just want us to be family again, okay? I know I didn't handle it right, and I shouldn't have raised my voice, but you know I love you, right? You know you're still my little girl."

I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at him with furious eyes. "I am your _nothing_ ," I snarled, my voice proud and indignant.

I took a deep breath and covered the phantom tears leaving my eyes. "Go home, dad," I murmured.

And he did.

* * *

I didn't want to go home after that mess. There wasn't much for me to come back to- my mother would inevitably be sitting on her legs in the living room, and she'd look up at me with eyes that would be hopeful until I would close the door behind me. And then she'd take a long drag of her cigarette and sigh, "How was your father's house?"

And I'd say, "Just fine," even if it wasn't.

And she'd reply, "How'd your father look?"

And I'd go, "I don't know. Good, I guess."

And she'd scoff and grind her lit cigarette into her pink Miami Beach ashtray and say, "You always tell me that."

And I'd bite my tongue and manage a small, "I'm sorry." Because I won't know what else to tell her that wouldn't make us both more miserable than we already are.

And then I'd retreat into my room, lie down, and listen to _Buddy Holly_ on my phone over and over until it came time for me to make dinner.

Understandably, I wanted to put that off for as long as possible. So with no car, and nowhere else to go, I found myself hiding behind a row of bushes blocking the far side of Peridot's driveway.

I stared over at her house for a long moment, wondering if it was warm inside, and if the walls were painted brown and stained.

Shaky fingers I hardly recognized as my own dialed Peridot's number, and pressed my phone to my ears.

"Hello?"

My heart picked up a little, and I ducked further behind the bushes; flattening myself to the ground like a soldier in the trenches.

"Hey," I said back, biting my lip with a cringe when my voice came out a little too meekly.

" _Lazuli!"_

My eardrums slammed into my brain, and I yanked my phone away to rest a few inches from my face. I checked to make sure my speakerphone setting was turned off.

"How are you?" Peridot asked. "Are you doing well? Isn't the weather just perfect today?"

"Fine, sure, I guess so," I rolled my eyes, trying to catch the smile in my head before it made its way onto my face. It was refreshing to hear a voice that didn't radiate of unhappiness.

I mean I'm well aware that I'm hardly a poster child for optimism, but even I had a limit to the amount of depressing bullshit I could put up with in a single day.

"Sorry, sorry," Peridot amended. "That was probably a lot at once."

"It's fine," I said.

"I know. I just get carried away sometimes and I go on _forever._ I really can't help it, but I still hate how much I ramble on because sometimes I do it without meaning to and then I can just _see_ the person I'm talking to phasing out of the conversation. Isn't that annoying?"

"Peridot, you're breathing irony- you know that?"

"I said it was unintentional!" Peridot whined.

"Just thought you should know," I shrugged.

There was a moment of silence in which neither of us said a thing, and I found it nice enough to smile about. The soft whisper of Peridot's breathing over the speaker was proof enough that she existed on the other end, and it made me feel just a little less than totally alone.

"So… did you want anything in particular?" Peridot asked, her voice racketing with awkwardness, like an unhinged wheel going over an unpaved road.

"Ah, sorry- zoned off for a second there. No, not really. I was just wondering if you were doing anything today."

"Well, I've got some things in health I could study for, and I might be playing online with some internet friends… Maybe I'll start fixing the bugs in a code some real clod gave me the other week… _wait!_ You wanted to know if I was willing to spend time with you, weren't you?"

I ran a few fingers through my bangs, "A real genius, aren't you?"

"Patronize me again, clod- see what happens. I don't see why it's so hard to just ask overtly. In any case- that sounds fantastic. Do you have a particular time in mind?"

"Anytime," I mumbled.

"How about in ten minutes?" Peridot offered. "I've got to get something on."

"What are you even wearing?"

"Don't you usually have to pay to get that kind of information?" Peridot hummed, a strange coyness to her voice.

"Per- _that's not what I meant!"_

Peridot cackled on the other end, and told me quickly that she would be out in ten minutes to wait on her porch for me.

I hung up and let my nose fall into the grass. I stared through the wall of leaves before me, wondering if one of the outside windows belonged to her.

I stared at the clock on my phone for a good while, watching the minutes count up restlessly. At some point between 3:02 and 3:05, I dozed off for a bit, and when I woke up at 3:14, I figured the extra three minutes might make me seem a tad less eager.

I almost popped my head up above the bushes when I saw her. She was perched on her porch steps, eyes flickering between the sidewalk and her phone screen.

I ran my fingers through my hair and brushed the dirt from my face before crawling army-style across the yard until I was safely out of view. Standing up, I ducked and sprinted to the sidewalk, patting down my jeans and shoving my hands into the pockets just as I came into view.

I walked up Peridot's driveway with my head down to mask the red that burned like a chemical flame on my face.

"Lazuli! I was worried you weren't going to show," Peridot said, breaking into a huge, toothy grin.

"Well, I'm here," I announced, taking my wordless invitation to sit next to her.

Peridot quirked a brow and stared at me for a moment. "Are you alright?" she asked suddenly, furrowing her brows.

"You asked me that like, fifteen minutes ago, and I told you I was fine."

"Yes," Peridot began, "but fifteen minutes is a lot of time for you to potentially become _not_ -fine, and I feel that, as a good friend, it is my obligatory duty to do whatever I can to ensure you a positive state of well-being."

I snorted. "Yeah, I'm alright," I said, and it surprisingly didn't sound like half the lie it was.

"Okay," Peridot smiled, apparently having her peace. "Do you work tonight?"

"Nope. My employer makes me take off one day each week, and it's usually Sunday."

Peridot nodded very seriously, as if my work schedule were some huge concern to her.

"So what did you want to do?" Peridot asked. "Don't misunderstand me- I absolutely wouldn't mind watching cars with you, but I've got to tell my dad if we're going anywhere before he gets ready for work."

I thought for a moment, running my fingers against my jaw. "Uh, I don't know. Have you seen the Heart yet? We can go to the boardwalk if you want."

"That sounds great!" Peridot chirped. Satisfied with our plans, she jumped to her feet and ran into her house, making sure to shut the door behind her. When she emerged again, she had a camera on straps hanging from her neck.

"You look like a tourist," I cringed, crinkling my nose.

"Shut it, Lazuli! I'm trying to enjoy my first Beach City-related experience that isn't school or the hospital, okay?" Peridot snapped, grabbing my wrists and dragging me to my feet.

"Your parents never took you to the boardwalk? But that's like, the entire reason our town exists," I said, eyes wide.

"I know. It's horrible."

"Absolutely unacceptable," I agreed, nodding solemnly.

It wasn't as if I had a whole lot of pride for my tourist-trap of a town, but damn it- who lives in Beach City without even seeing the beach?

We started off down her street, and by the stop-sign, she was already wheezing and telling me to slow down.

"Hey, where's your car?" Peridot said, sounding a little something like Darth Vader having an asthma attack. "I'm not saying I'm struggling, but-,"

"I walked here," I shrugged, "The weather's nice."

That was only half of a lie. I never drove to my dad's house when I had to visit, because driving there meant driving back, and they told us in driving school that it was dangerous to drive when angry or upset. Still, the weather made things a little more tolerable. There was a slight biting chill, but the warm sun on my skin kissed it better instantly.

"You're strange," Peridot sighed. "Come on, I'm ready to go again."

We crossed a street and made it down a few more houses before Peridot made me slow down again.

"I'm really sorry, Lazuli," Peridot groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I know this sucks."

"It's fine," I said. "Do you want to piggyback? I can take us to my house and pick up my car. It's only another block and a half."

Peridot shook her head and laughed airily, "Carrying up the stairs was enough. I'm not skinny enough for you to hold me up all that way."

"If you're sure you can make it," I shrugged.

"I'm sure."

I forced myself to walk at a funeral march, stopping every four or five houses to point out some made-up landmark. Peridot probably knew what I was doing, but I'm sure she enjoyed the second to breathe anyways.

"Is it really that hard to walk on one leg?" I asked, though I only realized in retrospect that my words could have come off as inconsiderate.

"It's not that," Peridot sighed, ignoring any offense in my bluntness, "My disease is muscle-degenerative, so on top of my absent leg, all of my other muscles suffer, too. Walking like this feels like running a marathon. I mean, skipping out on my rehabilitation training probably didn't do me any favors either, but still."

"That sucks," I said.

"Thanks," she said back.

"Just exercise more."

"I should."

When we finally made it to my house, I asked Peridot to come in with me. It wasn't as if I particularly wanted her to see how I lived- but rather that I felt as if it might be better for her to have somewhere warm to sit while I dug around for my wallet and keys.

She struggled up the stairs, but made it inside without too much strain. She relaxed into one of the chairs as if she lived there.

"Take off your shoes," I told her, retreating into my room. "I'll be back in five."

I wish I were a neat person, but tiredness breeds some hell of a mess. I started digging through my clothes, feeling into the pockets of my jeans for my keys.

"Lapis, is that you?"

"Yeah, mom. I'm just stopping in to grab something," I said, cursing myself when I looked at the time and found it to be just four minutes short of her scheduled nap.

"How was your father's?"

"It was alright," I mumbled, feeling my chest tighten. I finally located the jeans I wore two days ago, and found my keys in the back pocket.

"How's Naomi?"

"I don't know- didn't see her."

"She's growing up to look just like your father, you know."

"Yeah, I guess so," I replied back, even though Naomi, with her pale skin and brown eyes, looked drastically more like Crystal than like my father.

I'd held hands with Naomi once before, and I remember marveling at how our laced fingers looked like a barcode. It had made me proud, because my darkness against her peach skin proved that I would always be more of my father's child than she could ever be.

"Mom, are you lying down now?" I called, reemerging into our kitchen to find Peridot with her feet crossed at the ankles, her left behind her right.

"Yes- I'm just going to grab a glass of water first," mom said.

My eyes went wide, and my jaw clenched. "No! I-I mean, no, don't worry about it. I'll get it for you. Just stay there, okay?"

I hadn't brought a friend home since before dad left, so I really had no idea how my mother might react to Peridot's presence. And dealing with a grown woman's mental breakdown was not on the list of things I had planned for the day. I shot Peridot an apologetic look before filling a solo cup of water and rushing back to my mother's room.

Mom was already curled up in her big green comforter, her glasses on her nightstand next to an almost-empty carton of Malibu's. A box fan whirred gently in the corner of her room.

"Here, Mom. I'll be back in a few, okay?"

"Okay. Have fun," she mumbled, hugging me quickly before taking her glass and sending me out.

I retreated into the kitchen. "Now we can go," I whispered. "Sorry for that."

"I don't mind," Peridot said. "Your mom decorates really nicely."

"She does, doesn't she?" I said, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips. I offered Peridot a hand to help her back down the stairs (she refused, of course, but she thanked me anyways).

We took my car the rest of the way to the boardwalk, and Peridot went off on a tangent about the boring things that she found interesting, like school, and college, and her online video games.

It was all very topical information that tended to go in one ear and out the other, but as a devout listener of radio morning shows, I was more than used to topicality, and found that even her erratic voice could slip into a rhythm if it rattled on for long enough.

And after swimming laps in the deep end for as long as I have, sometimes it felt nice to just sit in the shallow side and enjoy the water.

I parked my car in the arcade lot, and got out, opening the door for Peridot.

"I hate getting out of your car," Peridot hissed, kneeling at the step so that her prosthetic didn't hit the ground from the full drop height.

She toppled out and shut the door behind her, fiddling with her camera for a moment before picking it up and aiming the lens at me.

"Hey, don't do that," I snapped, putting my hands up in front of my face.

"Shut up, clod. I'm just testing it out."

"On me?"

"You're the first thing I saw!"

"Sure."

We both laughed a little bit, and I started leading her down the boardwalk. I pointed out the few shops still open at this time of the year: the arcade, the T-shirt printing kiosk, and the Big Donut- home of the blandest pastries on earth.

Finally, we came to the edge of the boardwalk, and took a seat at one of the benches behind a wooden art piece.

"This is the Heart," I said, pointing to the odd stack of driftwood. It didn't look too special from the sides: it wasn't much more than a set of stair-stepping boards curving up to a point, but from a standing view, one could make out the heart shape emerging from the planks like a pop-up book. "Before I was born, there was this huge freak hurricane that hit Beach City and destroyed just about everything on the boardwalk. So while they were starting to make repairs and whatnot, this artist went and collected a bunch of the broken boards from the wreckage and made a monument out of it."

"Wow," Peridot whispered. "That's amazing."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I used to climb all over it when I was a kid. My dad used to take me to the beach to swim, and then after, we'd get ice cream and sit here."

Peridot didn't say anything- and the air was heavier because of it- but she moved her hand from her camera to her sides so that our pinkies touched. I smiled and wrapped my finger around hers.

"What's it like?" Peridot said suddenly. When I only looked at her in confusion, she clarified. "Living with split-up parents, I mean. I-I'm not trying to assume or anything, it just seemed like-,"

"No, it's okay," I assured her. "I won't lie- it sucks."

"How often to you see your dad?"

"Once every two weeks. My dad threw this big fit when I chose mom over him. He threatened to take her to court for custody."

"And?"

"I had to agree to his terms," I concluded. "There's no way she would've won."

Peridot's finger twitched. "That does suck."

"I guess. I'm used to it, though," I shrugged.

"That sucks even more," Peridot sighed.

I didn't reply. There was nothing I could say, really. And God save me if I stared Peridot straight in the eyes and tried to tell her I was happy.

She stared ahead at the Heart, and I stared at her. I focused on how her glasses would slip down over the bump in her nose, and how she would crinkle it to readjust them without her hands.

The ocean behind us sounded like a faraway thunderstorm, rolling in and out with the gentle surf music playing over the Boardwalk PA system. Eventually, the sun retired behind the clouds and the gray skies brought down the temperature.

"Let's go into the Big Donut," I suggested. "It's getting cold. Also, I'm a little hungry."

"I didn't bring any money," Peridot protested.

"It's fine. I can pay for you," I offered. I shut her up before she could protest further, "and no- I don't mind. I promise."

Peridot stayed quiet as we walked inside, and I got us donuts and coffees. There were barstools tucked under an overhanging counter facing the window, so we took our seats there.

Peridot took a few pictures of her food, and the weather outside, and though I was looking away and couldn't be sure, I believe she caught a few of me.

"Thank you, by the way," Peridot said, taking a sip of her coffee and wrinkling her nose. "Not for the coffee, because I don't like cream or sugar, and that's something you should've known about me before you bought it, but thank you for taking me out here."

"We'll switch then," I offered, swapping our cups. "I like black coffee, too. Amethyst drinks the sugary stuff pretty religiously, so I just figured you might be the same."

Peridot gave me a weird look, and I hurriedly added, "I don't hang out with a lot of people, okay?"

"It's not that," she said, and then paused for a moment before continuing, "I was just taken aback, that's all."

"Sorry. Either way, you're welcome."

Peridot stirred her coffee with the straw, which I thought was weird since there was nothing in it to stir. She sipped it tentatively, nodding this time in approval.

"When we came here, I thought we'd be able to see the tourist areas," Peridot said. "Unfortunately, that didn't work out so well." She laughed bitterly and sent a glare towards her leg like a disapproving mother might look at a bothersome child.

Her eyes found the window again, and she stared out for a long time. "Lapis," she said. "I don't intend to be pushy, but would it be much of a task to take me down to the beach? I've never seen the ocean before."

"Sure," I said, trying my best to down the liquid in my cup that proved more sugar than substance.

We finished eating in comfortable silence, and after I threw our stuff away, we headed back outside. The sun still hadn't returned, but it was still warm enough for my light sweater to prove comfortable. I crossed my arms to keep the heat in my chest, and lead her down one of the piers.

Peridot hobbled along at a breakneck pace, eyes bright with eagerness. As soon as we hit the sand, Peridot took off her shoe and sock, and let the skin and bone of her foot sink into the gravel. She curled her toes and hummed, a pleased expression slipping onto her face.

Her trend of unusual silence continued as we walked towards the ocean, an unnamable force pushing us towards the waves as if we were newborn turtles.

Peridot stuck her foot into the water and instantly yanked it back. "It's cold!" she yelped.

"It's November," I pointed out.

Peridot sat down and crossed her arms over her legs. "I know that!" she snapped, tentatively dipping her toes back into the water and smiling as shivers wracked her body.

"You're going to get sick," I muttered.

"What's new?" Peridot bit back.

"Smartass," I laughed. "I'll have to take you down here again soon. We can walk the beach so that your muscles can get stronger. Sound good?"

My heart pounded as I said that, and I wondered if it was trying to tell me that I was making a mistake.

But before I could claim that I was joking, Peridot nodded brightly and said, "Yeah, I'd enjoy that."

Something about my beating heart settled instantly, and I internally scolded it for being so strange. Crossing my legs, I watched the waves kiss Peridot's toes before slipping back into the ocean like a shy lover.

Something about spending with her made me feel good- or at least as close to good as I can ever remember being. I thought for the first time in a long time that I might be spending too much of my time being sad when there were moments like this waiting for me.

An odd urge overtook me, and I reached forward to slip Peridot's camera from her neck. She noticed me, but didn't protest. I turned it on, and toyed with the settings before aiming it back at Peridot and snapping a picture. She caught me, and had been looking at the lens when I shot it, but there was something so warm and genuine in her eyes, it were as if I'd caught it unnoticed.

"Peridot," I murmured.

"Hm?"

"Thank you," I said quietly.

Peridot looked at me quizzically, "I didn't do anything for you."

I just shook my head and thanked her again, telling her that I was just grateful for her company. It wasn't a lie I suppose, but like most of the things I say, it wasn't the full truth either.

She seemed to be satisfied with my answer, at very least. Our hands found one another in the silence, and Peridot talked too fast for me to mention anything about it.

* * *

"Dad?"

"Lapis," he replied flatly. Even from over the phone, I could picture his deep-set frown. He coughed a little into the receiver before speaking up again, "I'm sorry for yelling at you. You know Crystal's trying to teach me to get better about that."

"She's doing a stellar job," I deadpanned.

"Don't you speak like that. She's a nice woman. She's real nice."

"I know," I sighed.

It was true- Crystal had been nicer to me than most people, even though she had arguably the least good reason to be. I wish she were meaner sometimes so I could have the catharsis of hating her- but she was young, and pretty, and smart, and though I hated to admit it- it wasn't hard to figure out why my father left mom for her.

She was the kind of person who could see the good in everyone; even people who were angry like my father and troubled like me.

"Anyways, I called to apologize. But I also want to talk about my offer with you like a mature adult."

I felt like stones were being dropped on my chest, and I winced. My mother's snores from the opposite room rumbled through the house.

When I came home from Peridot's, it was already half-past her sleeping hours. I'd cooked dinner enough for the next three days, and I dropped a fresh pack of cigarettes on our dining table. I wished I looked old enough to buy tobacco without being carded, because then I wouldn't have to flirt to buy her smokes every night.

But it was my curse that mom would get up in the morning after I'd left for school, get hungry, and then smoke for an hour.

"Dad, you know I can't leave mom," I said.

"That's the thing, Lapis. Your mother's turning fifty-five this year, so she'll qualify for senior care up at the local center. She would be cared for there, Lapis."

"Dad, I-,"

"You don't have to decide right now. I know it would be a big change, and I can't blame you for not wanting to live with me. I know I'm not the best father. But I just want you to think about it- for _you_."

I imagined coming home from school and finding dinner already made in the fridge. I imagined taking Saturdays off to run for the Beach City Dolphin track team. And I felt horrible for imagining that, because it was proof that I was weak and selfish.

I ran my fingers through my hair and did what hopeless men are wont to do: I laughed.

"Okay dad," I said, riding the ghost of a humorless chuckle. "I'll think about it."


End file.
